Her Last Dance

From my 2003 OWC creative writing class


Her Last Dance

Bursting into the tingling warmth, we ran,
Flushed with glowing anticipation.
Laughing and giggling, we skipped
Through patches of violets and buttercups,
Our eyes never leaving the delicate swirl
Of colors dancing about us.
Round and round we spun,
Like puppies chasing their tales.
Our nets were swooping misshapen arcs
In the air as they followed our targets.
One, drawn to the deep purple hue,
And sugary scent of the violets,
Glides and spreads her wings upon its silky softness.
She twitched as the wind
Seemed to tickle her wings while
She rested amongst the sweet perfume.
Down flew the nets.
The others pounced on her
Like a hungry tiger pounces on his entrapped prey.
Fluttering helplessly she entangled her wings
Deeper into her death trap.
Awkwardly they thrust their hands in after her,
Yanking and twisting her delicate yellow wings.
As they disfigured her, the velvety powder from her wings
Mingled with the dust and pollen on their hands.
The attraction of her beauty and grace now gone,
They let her flutter to the ground.
Turning they raised their nets and dashed off
To begin again another dance.
Only I remained, to mourn the loss.



Revised

Her Last Dance

Bursting into the tingling warmth, we ran,
Flushed with glowing anticipation.
Laughing and giggling, we skipped
Through patches of violets and buttercups,
Our eyes never leaving the delicate swirl
Of colors dancing about us.
Round and round we spun,
Like puppies chasing their tails.
Our nets were swooping misshapen arcs
In the air as they followed our targets.
One, drawn to the deep purple hue,
And sugary scent of the violets,
Glides and spreads her wings upon its silky softness.
She twitched as the wind
Seemed to tickle her wings while
She rested amongst the alluring aroma.

Down flew the nets.
They pounced on her like vicious
Hunting dogs finalizing their prey.
Fluttering helplessly she became entangled
Deeper into her death trap.
Awkwardly they thrust their hands in after her,
Yanking and twisting her delicate yellow bodice.
As they disfigured her, the velvety powder from her wings
Mingled with the dust and pollen on their hands.
The attraction of her beauty and grace now gone,
They let her flutter to the ground.
Turning they raised their nets and dashed off
To begin again another dance.
Only I remained to mourn the loss.